


Baggage

by RuArcher (Coriesocks)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/pseuds/RuArcher
Summary: Blaise reflects briefly on his relationship with Neville as they move into their new home.





	Baggage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy the Bleville fluff, Keyflight! Thanks for helping me out so much recently, and for the wonderful birthday drabble <3

“Is this the last of them?” Neville grunted. With a lazy flick of his wand, he deposited a pair of overflowing trunks on the floor. They landed with a dull thud beside a huge pile of similar trunks, boxes, and haphazardly-placed furniture that had already taken over most of the room.

“For now.” Blaise smirked. He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the now-cramped space. _Their_ cramped space. Their _first_ space together.

He still couldn't quite believe it had happened. Settling down, domesticity, it had never been something he'd imagined happening when he was younger. He'd watched the men (and occasional women) cycle through his mother's favour, and believed he'd live the same life—never staying with one person long enough to get bored, always on the lookout for the next opportunity—but he hadn’t counted on Neville. Neville Longbottom, in his knitted tank tops, corduroy trousers, and worn out duffle coats, with a beautiful crooked smile that could thaw even the most hardened heart.

Neville _bloody_ Longbottom. If only his younger self could see him now—he’d probably keel over. He’d barely even noticed the boy at school so he can’t have been much to look at then. Now though...

He doubted anybody else who knew him thought it would ever have happened too. He'd gained quite the reputation throughout school as someone who could be counted on to make you feel good, amazingly good—rumours of his skilled tongue were in no way exaggerated—but his encounters had only ever been temporary things. Nothing more than fleeting dalliances in alcoves or behind the greenhouses, or in the Slytherin dormitories when things got boring. 

He hadn't been looking for love, but it had found him anyway in the shape of one incredibly handsome Herbologist, and he placed the blame squarely on Draco's shoulders.

It had been a couple of years after the war, and though Blaise hadn’t let onto anybody, he'd been struggling. Everything felt hollow. Numb. None of his former hobbies (if drinking, socialising, and fucking strangers counted as hobbies) filled him with the same fire as they had before. He'd started over indulging: drinking until he lost days, waking up in a new bed every morning, skipping work. He’d stopped caring about his appearance so much, even wearing the same thing several days in a row and forgetting to shower. Then one day Draco had pulled him aside and told him about this program set up by do-goody Dumbledore-ites that involved an anonymous owl exchange. It was a way to share experiences about the war without fear of judgement and apparently it worked. Draco swore by it, anyway; he said that sending off an owl to them was the best decision he'd ever made. Blaise wondered if he'd have been quite so enthusiastic if he'd known it was Potter he was corresponding with at the time, but Blaise was hardly one to judge based on his current situation..and it hadn't exactly turned out badly for Draco, considering his and Harry's forthcoming wedding. 

Blaise had written his first letter with a great deal of scepticism. The people who volunteered to receive (and reply to) letters were assigned based on a set of criteria known only to the mysterious people in charge of the program and by some stroke of luck, Blaise's letter had been assigned to Neville. They had exchanged letters for a year before revealing their identities, but Blaise had fallen for him long before he knew his name. It was a further six months before they met in person. It may have been longer except they'd both attended Harry's surprise 25th birthday party, which Draco had organised, so the meeting was unavoidable. They'd ended up leaving the party early and spent the next few days holed away in Neville's Hogsmeade cottage, so Blaise hadn’t been cross at having the distance removed from their relationship. That time was now one of his fondest memories.

“What do you mean, _for now?_ ” Neville asked incredulously. “You’re telling me this massive heap of junk that has already completely taken over our new house isn't the entirety of your possessions? Where the hell have you been keeping this stuff? Your flat was spotless!”

“Firstly, it's not junk. Zabini's don't own _junk_. Secondly, I lived with Draco so _of course_ I had to pare down my belongings.” Neville scoffed and looked about to object, but Blaise silenced him with look. “And thirdly, these are the things from Mother's London townhouse. I also have quite a collection of shoes and coats at our apartment in Milan, and several wardrobes full of winter-wear at our cabin in Verbier, but Mother doesn't use those properties as much so those things can stay there for the time being. Actually, the Verbier cabin is pretty much mine since Mother can't abide the cold and—”

“Blaise! I get it. You have a lot of stuff; none of it junk. I'm sure we can find somewhere to put it all…” Neville looked at the pile of boxes, trunks, suitcases, and several large pieces of ornately carved furniture that already looked totally out of place in their small home. There was a look of fond exasperation on his face, though, and Blaise’s rising guilt subsided. 

“That's the spirit,” he said, dropping a hand on Neville’s shoulder and absently rubbing a thumb over the soft material of his shirt. “Do you want me to help with your things?”

Neville looked around, a wry smile on his lips. He pointed to where a battered trunk sat beside two small boxes and a bulging Muggle carrier bag and shrugged. 

“Oh. I see...” Blaise glanced guiltily back at the sprawling mass of his possessions and squeezed Neville’s shoulder. They’d been together long enough that he knew Neville didn’t _really_ mind his materialistic tendencies, but he couldn’t help but grimace at the obvious disparity in their amount of possessions. “On the plus side, at least that leaves more room for my things,” he offered.

“I love you _and_ your baggage,” Neville said. He wrapped his arms around Blaise’s waist and drew him in, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Hermione can do a mean extension charm so I’m sure we can find somewhere for all your belongings. Besides, most of my things are actually in the shed. And the greenhouse…and a fair amount is still in boxes at Hogwarts because we don’t actually have enough space in our greenhouse. Speaking of...we’re probably going to need another one of those...or two perhaps...Oh, and I need get the climate control charms in place for planting once Luna sends my samples over—”

Blaise cut him off with a swift peck on the lips. “Anything you want, Nev. The garden is completely your domain. As long as there’s somewhere for me to sit so I can admire you while you get all sweaty and dirty, I’m happy.”

Neville chuckled. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Care to watch me get sweaty now?”

“Oh, yeah?” Blaise smirked and slowly ran his fingers down Neville’s chest, delighting in the feeling of it fluttering under his touch. He loved that he could still have such an affect on his boyfriend even after three years.

“Yeah. These boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves.” A broad grin broke out across Neville’s face as he stepped out of reach. “Come on. It’ll go so much faster if we do it together, then we can get started on christening the rooms…”

Blaise barked out a laugh and watched fondly as Neville levitated a trunk labelled _WARDROBE 5_ up the stairs—hopefully heading towards the spare room which he’d already earmarked as his walk-in wardrobe. 

He had no idea how it had happened, how he’d gone from sworn playboy to happily domesticated and settling down with Neville in their first home, but he was really glad it had. He felt like the luckiest man in the world and he wouldn’t change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me on tumblr @ [coriesocks](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/coriesocks)


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